


hiraeth.

by ephemeralstar



Series: i write sins and tragedies [3]
Category: X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)
Genre: Ableist Language, Bad Guys Being Bad, Canon Bisexual Character, Cross-Posted on Quotev, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/F, F/M, Murder, Non-Graphic Frequent Mentions of Torture, The Mutant Brotherhood, What to Heck??, the darkest timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:56:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8055370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstar/pseuds/ephemeralstar
Summary: Raven looks as though she’s been dragged through hell by the time she gets to the mansion’s doorstep. A broken, bloody mess, she has nowhere else to go, refuses to say where she’s been, can’t even bring herself to look Charles in the eyes, so he stops trying. It’s Aoibheal who nurses her back to health, who listens to Raven’s criticisms about the world when she’s too sleepy to be on guard, who eventually earns her trust. Like Charles after Cuba, Raven has been broken in ways that no-one else could ever understand, but it’s so much worse. Raven’s lost everything, her life, her love, herself, surgically removed until all that was left was a burning desire for revenge. The night Raven leaves is the night Aoibheal finally shows her the scars on her chest and throat. Raven’s breath catches. The look in Aoibheal’s eyes is so familiar.“Come with me.” Raven finds herself saying, offering Aoibheal her hand without hesitation. A long moment of silence stretches between them, and for the briefest moment Raven is worried that she misread the girl before her. Instead, Aoibheal takes her hand as a handful of clones scatter to collect supplies, look of soft determination on her face.“Of course.”





	hiraeth.

**Author's Note:**

> ok literally no-one asked for this but i wrote a 11000 word bonus chapter for my x-men oc fic about what happens to [my oc] in the original timeline.
> 
> oc: aoibheal cassidy, sean’s younger sister, was kidnapped by trask alongside her brother and was made to watch him get killed. her primary mutation is creating clones of herself that operate under her control with a hive-mind and can explode at will, was born with temperature immunity, secondary mutation is a scream similar to her brother’s, but it only affects people, not objects. bisexual as heck.
> 
> notes: intercut with lyrics because fuck you that’s why. im lowkey a highkey slut for oc fics, but since dofp they focus on the alternate timeline like _no_ i wanna see what shit u got up to in the original timeline. also, backstory re; first class has been posted on quotev ( _kill me_ ), as well as the full fic, not just this shitty bonus chapter, so this fic follows:  
> \- X-Men Origins Wolverine  
> \- X-Men United  
> \- X-Men The Last Stand  
> as far as ships go, it’s primarily mystique/oc, with lowkey magneto/oc and the later sections can be read as pyro/oc, but that was not my intention and also creepy as fuck.

 

_we start with small talk, but_  
_we know that it's not so_  
_we take our time 'cos it feels like we're dying_  


* * *

She’s nineteen in this universe, when her life finally begins, amid this this fallacy that she’s built with for herself around these men. Now, she’s a Cassidy in looks alone, her entire being made up of things she’s borrowed from those around her. When she speaks, it’s with Charles’s British inflection, cut with Sean’s New Jersey drawl, when she walks, it’s a self-conscious slump she’s mirrored from Hank, just as she had appropriated his name only months before to fool the government. The only thing left of her heritage is the rage she lets fester inside, the disgust she feels knowing that there are mutants dying at the hands of their government, and Charles won’t lift a finger to help. But soon enough, even her fire, her passion, is a borrowed ember from a brighter blaze.

Raven looks as though she’s been dragged through hell by the time she gets to the mansion’s doorstep. A broken, bloody mess, she has nowhere else to go, refuses to say where she’s been, can’t even bring herself to look Charles in the eyes, so he stops trying. It’s Aoibheal who nurses her back to health, who listens to Raven’s criticisms about the world when she’s too sleepy to be on guard, who eventually earns her trust. Like Charles after Cuba, Raven has been broken in ways that no-one else could ever understand, but it’s _so much worse_. Raven’s lost _everything_ , her life, her love, _herself_ , surgically removed until all that was left was a burning desire for revenge. The night Raven leaves is the night Aoibheal finally shows her the scars on her chest and throat. Raven’s breath catches. The look in Aoibheal’s eyes is so _familiar_.

“Come with me.” Raven finds herself saying, offering Aoibheal her hand without hesitation. A long moment of silence stretches between them, and for the briefest moment Raven is worried that she misread the girl before her. Instead, Aoibheal takes her hand as a handful of clones scatter to collect supplies, look of soft determination on her face.

“ _Of course_.”

* * *

 

_your laugh echoes down the highway;  
_ _crawls into my hollow chest,spreads over the emptiness_

* * *

The worst part about leaving wasn’t having to stand up to Charles ( _finally, ~~finally~~_ ) about how she is who she is, not who he sees her as, it’s saying goodbye to Hank, her brother, her confidant and best friend for over a decade. He wants more than anything to ask her to stay, to warn her that Raven’s a bad person and that she’s safe here, but he hates lying to Aoibheal more than anything, and so he lets her clone sob against his shoulder.

“I have to do this.” The clone feels so real, it’s breaking his heart.

“I know.” He rubs soothing circles against her back, eyes closed; he doesn’t want to remember her like this, determined yet distraught in the moonlight. He’s well aware that she doesn’t know how he and Charles can just sit by when mutants are being mutilated under the guise of experimentation, but to hear her watery voice ask if Charles even cares- _Hank doesn’t cry_. “I know.” Is all he can manage. Though he wants to ask her why the clone’s even here, he knows the answer; Aoibheal is his all but sister, and after years of Charles’s neglectful behaviour, finding a kindred spirit with Raven’s drive must feel like a godsend. “Take care, okay Blue Blood?” Holding the clone at arms length, he finally looks at her, and when she smiles at him, it’s watery but so hopeful, and he feels so weak, unable to protect his sister from the horrors of the world. _This must have been what it was like for Sean_. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, the clone vanishes, and Hank is left alone with his thoughts, that the great Charles Xavier doesn’t even have the powers to read.

Raven and Aoibheal are almost off the property in a car they had ‘ _borrowed_ ’ from Charles when Aoibheal hastily wipes away the tears she hadn’t even realised she had shed. Under Raven’s curious look, Aoibheal explained what had happened, and Raven reaches across the console with one had to link their fingers.

“I’m glad you came with me.” Raven’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet. In the silence that follows, Aoibheal presses a kiss to her cheek, and feels, for the first time in a long time, like she’s made the right choice. They watch the sunrise together at a gas station, stretched out on the hood of the car, the whole world glowing gold in the light.

“I don’t want to be _Blue Blood_ anymore.” Voice quiet, Aoibheal focuses on the way the light turns the clouds pink, while Raven props herself up on her elbow and raises an eyebrow at her. “I don’t know who I want to be, but I know it’s not her. _Blue Blood_ watched her brother die, put up with Charles for half a decade; she was weak.” There’s venom in her words, so thick that Raven actually frowns. “Can I just start fresh? As Aoibheal?” At the sound of Aoibheal’s quiet, hopeful voice, Raven’s frown melts away to a wry smile, and she leans back against the car, looking back up at the sky. She's blonde and gorgeous in the sunlight; Aoibheal's heart skips a beat.

“You will be stronger than she could ever dream of, Aoibheal.” And Aoibheal believes her.  

* * *

 

_and all i know is that i love you  
_ _even though you'll get me killed one day_

* * *

Paradise can be deceiving, Aoibheal learns quickly, as she and Mystique hole up in an abandoned hospital at the edge of New York State. While it is certainly private, there’s little in the way of comfort, but Mystique was dismissive of her earlier scepticism.

“Everyone knows old hospitals are haunted, so screams and explosions shouldn’t raise too much suspicion.” It’s a flimsy excuse, but there’s something about Mystique’s half smile that has her heart fluttering. “Come on, I’ll take you on the grand tour.” Despite the air of sarcasm, there’s something grounding in her statement that has Aoibheal smiling, especially as Mystique wraps an arm around her, making her feel secure like she hasn’t truly felt in years. 

Weeks turn to months and the initial rush of affection she had felt towards Mystique refused to fade; instead, it grows. It grows in the way Mystique smiles at her, the late nights they spend scouring newspapers, the sparring session in the dusty emergency room that leave her bruised yet grinning. She’s never felt like this about anyone before, not like this; she thinks it might be love. These feelings bring about a new determination within her, a drive that pushes her to pick pockets, infiltrate buildings and lie through her teeth to get what she wants. It’s worth it, she decides, for the rush that comes after liberating mutant test subjects, razing labs to ruins, and they’re celebrating in their decrepit excuse for a home, just the two of them, together in the candlelight. Aoibheal leans in to kiss Mystique, and Mystique doesn’t pull away, instead she threads her hands in Aoibheal’s hair and smiles against her lips and _yes,_ this _is the best feeling in the world_.

Undoubtedly, unerringly, she trusts her with her life, has dedicated years to her, to their cause, so when the next target is a major base of operations named ‘ _Three Mile Island_ ’, Aoibheal doesn’t hesitate to agree. She’s not nervous, persay, about antagonising them, that was the plan after all, and it had to be her since they would know Mystique’s D.N.A from a mile away; one swab and the whole plan would be ruined. Aoibheal’s pretty sure most of the files from her original capture were destroyed ( _ ~~along with her brother,~~ along with the building_ ), so she tells herself that they won’t try and experiment upon her until they were sure they knew what they were dealing with. So she spends a solid month wreaking havoc upon New York using her voice alone, leaving the clones as an explosive surprise for when she and Mystique are able to lay waste to the lab.

The first thing she notes about the guy they’ve sent to follow her is that he looks like an asshole. Calling himself Victor Creed, he wears a trenchcoat, and a smile that somehow reminds her of Erik, all sharp teeth and no humor. Though he’s trying to keep her calm, she can see his impossibly sharp nails elongating before her eyes; suddenly, she feels _very afraid ( ~~and so, so small~~ )_. There’s no clones to hide behind here, only the promise of Mystique once she’s in the facility. Before she can run, there’s the thud and horribly familiar prick of a needle. The tranquilizer in her chest is the last thing she sees before she’s out cold.

* * *

 

_but i refuse to let you make me feel like i can't fly._  
_not only will i soar again, i'll own the ~~fucking~~ sky_ __  


* * *

It’s been a full decade since her brother’s death, and yet when she wakes strapped to an operating table surrounded by strangers, all she can see is his face. This table is clean, sanitized, well lit, unlike the ones she and Mystique had been using as beds, with their uncomfortable mattresses and rickety frames. Screaming is futile, she realises with a gag pressed into her mouth, as a man gazes down at her with an unsettling smile, waxing poetic about mutilating mutants for the Government. It slides off her mind like white noise until she hears Sean’s name, and her whole mind is alight.

“Unfortunately, it was only a bare-bones report;” the man is not a doctor, that much is clear, there are real doctors around, with their scalpels and needles and machines, but he’s the one with the clipboard, “everyone working on you and your brother – _he was your brother, right?_ – went up in flames, all paperwork going with them.” His nametag reads Stryker, a name Aoibheal knows all too well from Mystique’s stories. She thinks she’s going to be sick. “Yes, Sean was very important to our research, but it seems you’ve inherited his gift.” Voice sickly sweet, he finally looks into her terrified eyes and clicks his tongue, petting the top of her head. There’s a chuckle from the side when Aoibheal tries to flinch away, and she’s pretty sure the blurry shape she catches from the corner of her eyes is Victor Creed. “We’d like to finish the research Trask’s team started.”

When she wakes, it’s with a new, sturdier gag, surrounded by mutants her age, and worse, _children_ , who can’t help but watch as she’s consumed by wave after wave of panic attack, reliving her brother’s death over and over again, amidst her own pain. There’s new cuts adorning her chest and throat, and she tries to tell herself that it’s worth it, that as soon as Mystique arrives they can raise hell upon these monsters.

It’s a full month of unending horrors before she realises that Mystique isn’t coming. As soon as it hits her, she’s tearing at her gag until her fingers are bleeding, throwing her element of surprise to the wind in the form of a clone to aid her struggle. Together, they rip the gag off, dislocating the original’s jaw in the process, but she doesn’t even care. Her mind is alight with thoughts of Mystique, of Sean, and she screams until she’s the only one left standing, the other mutants all having collapsed to the ground with their hands over their ears. Filled with a desire to explode like she has never felt before ( _apart from her brother’s death_ ), it’s only the sound of a voice in her head, new and barely audible, that makes her stop.

« _You’ll kill us all._ » Even in her mind, the voice is a pained whimper, reminding Aoibheal sharply that she’s trapped in a nuclear power plant, surrounded by children who don’t deserve this. The guards say she’s chaos as they shoot her full of tranquilizers, and in that bleary moment before the world turns to black, Aoibheal realises how much she loathes these pathetic humans and their traitorous, mutant lapdogs like Victor Creed. Humans think she’s chaos, so that’s what she becomes.

Escape means a man with metal claws, and she holds tight to a blind boy named Scott who leads them all to freedom. Freedom comes in the form of Charles Xavier, kind faced and bald, shuffling the terrified hoard of mutant children aboard his helicopter. Aoibheal wants to cry.

“Raven is _so sorry_ for what she put you through.” Finally, he turns and looks at her, eyes sad, feeling the shock and betrayal that ran through her stalled brain. Recovering, Aoibheal spits obscenities at him, curses him, curses Mystique, curses them all to hell until she can’t feel her lips and her shirt is damp from tears she’s allowed herself to shed. Charles leaves with the mutants, Aoibheal walks back into the laboratory.

The resulting explosion is all over the news for _weeks_ , and Charles doesn’t have the heart to tell Hank who caused it, even though they both know Charles is hiding it from him. At ground zero, Aoibheal crawls from the rubble, and starts searching for Erik.

* * *

 

_its empty in the valley of your heart;_  
_the sun, it rises slowly as you walk  
_ _away from all the fears and all the faults you left behind_

* * *

Six months spent planning leads to Erik’s escape and the destruction of almost half of the pentagon, but they’re alive, even if Aoibheal ends up with her face by Erik’s as America’s Most Wanted. Calling herself _Blue Blood_ gets him to recognise her, even if the name makes her skin crawl, and though he doesn’t exactly seem happy to see her, at least he doesn’t seem particularly hostile. They squirrel themselves away in the abandoned hospital, lying low until the entire West Coast stops looking for them, and Erik asks about the scars on her throat. A muscle in her jaw twitches, but she doesn’t drop his gaze; she also refuses to answer, so he tries something else.

“I thought you were Charles’s pet project.” Voice full of venom, he notes the way her eyes narrow into a glare, but she’s the one who breaks, looking to the ground bitterly.

“Charles is full of shit.” Her voice is quiet, but it’s loud enough in the silence, and it actually made Erik laugh. When he smiles at her, it’s a small bit of familiarity, and for now, it’s all she has that feels like home. It only takes days for them to respect one another, but it takes _years_ to build trust. Erik still calls her Blue Blood until she snaps, demanding to be called Chaos. His smile somehow looks sharper, but Chaos isn’t scared, so that’s who she becomes.

Lying low gives them a well needed break, a few months becoming a few years until the dust has well and truly settled. They’re almost at breaking point, constantly at each other’s throats, irritating one another to no end and slowly going out of their minds with boredom. Picking up where Chaos and Mystique had left off gives them new purpose, gives them focus, and they learn to work together against the humans. Their powers are complementary, even cohesive, as whatever Chaos can’t blow up, Erik can tear down. Side by side they watch buildings fall apart.

Where there’s mutants to be rescued, they’ve learned to expect Charles’s team to show up on their ostentatious jet and calling themselves ‘ _X-Men_ ’. Both Chaos and Erik hate this for a number of reasons, and all of them are petty, but Chaos especially clings to the legacy her brother built, and the two of them are in agreement that these newcomers don’t deserve that title. In fact, these ‘ _newcomers_ ’ turn out to be _kids_ , looking as though they’ve barely having scraped out of their teens, having been put straight onto the battlefield. Charles’s training is clearly evident in the way they handle themselves, so confident yet unable to cause real damage, while she thinks it's a waste of talent, Chaos still feels a little nauseous at the thought of history repeating itself.

The worst part, however, is the fact that she’s actually beginning to like these kids, even if they’re throwing her clones around like ragdolls. Their leader greets her like an old friend, and after a moment of hostile confusion, she learns that it’s Scott, from the island. His smile is so genuinely friendly that Chaos has to suppress an eye roll. Erik asks if her killer edge is growing dull but she doesn’t know how to answer. Charles had even gone so far as to send them a Christmas card last year; without a helmet of her own, and Charles repowered, her clothes feel too tight, her mind feels too loud, and she feel suffocated. In a rare moment of serenity, Erik holds her at arm's length, eyes dark and series as he rephrases his question, asking if she could sacrifice the X-Men if the need arose. Without hesitation, she says yes.

Leaving the hospital behind is easy, it’s swamped with bad memories. Leaving _America_ behind is substantially harder, but by the time Mystique rejoins them, Erik’s invested in an island of his own, one with towering mountains that he has Chaos ‘ _excavate_ ’. Mystique is technically the first of their new recruits, but Erik welcomes her back as his right hand easily enough. Chaos, however, slaps her with all the force she can muster, watching with triumph as her skin ripples from tan to blue out of shock. Biting out an apology, Mystique murmurs something about Trask Industries and ‘ _the greater good_ ’, but Chaos refuses to forgive her. There’s no warmth between them, no trust, no comfort, but slowly, there is a tenuous friendship.

* * *

 

_they thought that she was smiling,_  
_but they misidentified because the clenching of her teeth  
_ _was just her biting on the lie_

* * *

When Erik tells her she’s getting a long-term placement, she has the distinct impression that she’s being punished. Playing lackey for the F.B.I’s mutant taskforce is not how she wants to be spending the next decade of her life, but it seems she has no choice, and so she plays at being human and works as Erik’s informant. Arrival is easy; Erik’s forged her an application, forged her a _life_ , even rents her a semi-inhabitable apartment to live in, though she still has to undergo intense physical examinations before she’s officially hired, Erik’s contacts can only get her so far. Coming up clean to in the results is relieving, but her breath catches in her throat at the sight of her I.D, and she doesn’t know if she’s rather thank or blame Mystique.

 _Aoibheal McCoy_ spends her days hunting down mutant criminals, _officially_ assessing their strengths and _unofficially_ deciding whether their powers would benefit Erik’s team ( _“It’s_ ‘The Mutant Brotherhood’ _... You know I can hear you rolling your eyes.”_ ) Even though the name Aoibheal sits uncomfortably, she carves out a life for herself with it, wears coloured contacts, cuts her hair short, and pretends her hands don’t shake whenever she enters a hospital. It works, the human’s don’t know her from a bar of soap, don’t recognise her from the department’s ancient bulletin board, don’t realise what she’s even capable of. Above all, she’s a hard worker, a force to be reckoned with who puts herself ( _ ~~her clones, but who knows the difference?~~_ ) in harm's way when most others would hang back.

By thirty, she’s the Director of Mutant Affairs, and Erik gives her a new task. Sending him any and all mutant criminals becomes her new prime objective, and _God she tries_ , but somehow she always seems to be the last one to know; she knows it's because half her department doesn’t trust her, not because they suspect her of being a mutant, but because she’s a woman in power. So instead, she takes the initiative, to assign herself ( _ ~~her clone~~_ ) to a field team for ones that are particularly dangerous of powerful.

Aoibheal is not a good person, not by a long shot, which she’s fully aware of this. However, when she encounters a mutant by the name of Peter Maximoff, a thief and a speedster just trying to get his baby sister the best gift he could, she hesitates on sending him to Erik. In the end, it’s Charles who gets him, the telepath sending her a warm note of thanks in the back of mind, coupled with a faint, disembodied sadness that tells her that Scott hopes she’s well. It’s irritating, more than anything else, so she tells the sadness to stay out of her head.

Lying to Erik, she tells him the mutant ran before she found him, but Erik’s still _livid_. Life becomes much stricter after that; she can’t screw up again, can’t send anyone to Charles, and so learns to live in quiet simplicity. She goes to office parties, plans a holiday that she never goes on, and tries not to think about how dogs growl at her clones when she sends them down the street to get milk. Clones are created every day, getting rusty with her mutation would be worse than anything, but for once her life feels a little bit normal and she lets herself enjoy it.

What she doesn’t realise is that the life ( _lives_ ) she left behind, are legends in their own right. Charles speaks of Aoibheal, of the girl willing to die a thousand times over to save a stranger, who saves entire test facilities full of mutants like it’s her God-given purpose, whose very name causes Charles’s softly nostalgic smile. Erik, however, speaks of Chaos, of a woman past the point of no return, able to tear apart buildings and takes sole credit for the ‘77 Pentagon attack; when Erik tells the newest recruits that she’s a monster hiding in plain sight, Mystique laughs, but doesn’t disagree.

* * *

 

_things can only get better from here  
_ _but sometimes i wonder..._

* * *

At the turn of the millennium is when things begin to go bad. Mutant rights are on the forefront of everyone’s political agendas and she’s managed to get dodging nosy questions down to an artform. Barely a week after she spots Erik in the back of a lecture hall watching Dr. Jean Grey’s address to congress, she hears he’s in custody. From what she could see, he had looked so old, so gaunt, and so she demands to see him. She’s the Director of Mutant Affairs, but they deny her access for _‘safety reasons_ ’, and instead bring her in for a meeting with the President after an attempt on his life by a mutant. What she hadn’t been expecting was to come face-to-face with William Stryker, and she can practically _feel_ the blood boiling beneath her skin.

“You work for Trask Industries.” It’s a statement, voice flat, not even a quirk of her eyebrow, though her palms are sweaty, not that he seems to notice. He looks remarkably alive for someone she thought had been blown up on _Three Mile Island_. Stryker laughs.

“I’d rather think that Trask Industries works for me.” Humble tone matching his smile in a way that can only mean he’d rehearsed it. He genuinely seems oblivious to her clenched fists, to the muscle jumping in her jaw, to the amount of self control it was taking not to knock him out cold then and there. It seems that not everyone in the room was oblivious, however, as Senator Kelly’s hand is grasping her elbow, and when she looks back, his once blue eyes flash a familiar gold and Aoibheal’s heart eases in her chest. However it jumps once more at Stryker’s suggestion to infiltrate Xavier’s School, as she knows it cannot mean anything good. Once the meeting is adjourned, Aoibheal calls after him, demanding to join the team heading to Xavier’s. Strangely enough, Stryker looks uncomfortable, but the demand is clearly non-negotiable, so he gives her the details and leaves as soon as possible. Senator Kelly has disappeared before she could find him.

The militia head to Xavier’s are packing all-too-familiar tranquilizer guns, of course they’ve been updated since her last capture, but she recognises them easily enough, and finds herself feeling physically ill. Stryker clearly doesn’t care if they’re children, he seems to think he’d doing humanity a favour, and tells Aoibheal in no uncertain terms that she will be gunned down if she gets in their way. As soon as the helicopter lands, she’s the first one out the door, disappearing into the shadows and creating a clone to creep silently beside her for backup. Finding an unattended window, she has the clone smash through the glass, however, on the other side she hears a scream, and it’s a child’s. She loathes nothing in the world so much as Stryker, so she makes the executive decision then and there to leave her job at the F.B.I to return to her fruitful career as America’s Most Wanted. Erik would understand.

Both she and the clone weave through the house with practiced ease, following the sounds of the children until she hears the crash of doors being busted open from the floor below her, and finally sees the kids she was looking for. They’re teenagers, but they look so young when faced with soldiers, so the clone doesn’t hesitate to vault over the banister and put herself between the gun and the mutants.

“McCoy?” The soldier’s hesitation is their downfall when confronted with Aoibheal’s unforgiving expression. The clone lights up like the fourth of July and takes out all four soldiers in one go, destroying the landing’s support while she’s at it, which is how the original lands on her ass in front of three terrified teenagers. Swearing loudly, she gets to her feet, and they’re joined by a man from a distant memory. Even though they’re wary of her, they follow her advice to run without question, and the way she moves through the school with ease, down passageways and side doors from muscle memory alone has them trusting her.

The man running with them, Logan, his name is, she knows where she remembers him from, from _Three Mile Island_ , from Mystique’s betrayal, from where she had met Stryker all those years ago. He ushers them down a passage and closes the door behind them, staying to face off against Stryker by himself. Neither Aoibheal nor the kid named John think they need to rescue him, but the girl, Rogue, and the other boy, Bobby, are adamant that they had to go back. So they drag Logan along, the five of them clambering into a car that apparently belonged to Scott, with Logan and Rogue in front, while Aoibheal created a barrier between the two boys who seemed as though they were often at odds with each other.

As if hypnotised, she watched John flick his lighter open and closed, the flames flickering at his whim until she succumbs to her urges and presses her thumb to the flame, snuffing it out. They repeat is once, twice, three times more, John watching in awe as she allows him to crawl the fire across her fingers until she flips her hand and they watch it dance in her palm. When she breathes the word ‘ _incredible_ ’, she focused on the fire, but John’s looking at her with reverence in his eyes, and when she meets his gaze, they both know she’s not talking about the flames.

* * *

 

_you're lovin' on the murderer sitting next to you  
_ _you'll think, how'd I get here, sitting next to you?_

* * *

Logan drives them to Boston of all places, following after Storm and Jean, and to stop in to visit Bobby’s family for a brief moment of safety. At sunrise Logan finally demands to know who Aoibheal is, his gaze hard in the rearview mirror. She meet it easily, subconsciously squaring her shoulders as she speaks her name to the silence of the teenagers. When John asks if she’s ‘ _The Aoibheal McCoy’_ , like it means something, she shoots him a wry smile and a raised eyebrow.

“Do you know of any others?” Her question is met with silence from John himself, and half-murmurs from Rogue and Bobby of stories Xavier had shared from her life, of epic fights Scott had recounted, painting her as some sort of hero. Apparently, her name alone was enough to earn Logan’s respect, and that, above all else, is what Aoibheal finds hard to stomach.

Bobby’s house is a veritable suburban dream and Aoibheal’s pretty sure she’s lowering the property value just by stepping inside. It all feels quaint and claustrophobic, because even after _years_ as a human, her apartment had always been a shithole, with rats in the walls and temperamental plumbing. Sticking close to the back of the group, she wonders when disaster became _‘just another day_ ’. Everyone goes their separate ways into the house, Bobby and Rogue head upstairs to change and Logan hunts for food, but Aoibheal and John stick together in the foyer, wearing near-identical bitter expressions as they look over the wall of family photos. The memory of screamed insults and rusty bedsprings comes with a nausea that crawls up Aoibheal’s spine, and she’s suddenly recalling that she vehemently _hates_ the suburbs. Neither she nor John speak, the only sound in their silence is the flick of his lighter, but Aoibheal lets him glide the flames along her forearm, lets him curl the fire into patterns across her skin. They’re interrupted, however, by the front door opening, and Bobby’s family stopping short at the sight of Logan in their kitchen.

Working undercover as a human in a human-populated department that focused on mutant affairs meant Aoibheal was no stranger to casual anti-mutant sentiment, that doesn’t mean it gets easier to listen to. Its always jarring to hear supposedly kind people if their son ( _ ~~their son~~_ ) if he could try ‘not being a mutant’. She was of the firm belief that there was a special kind of hell for people like this, the people whose hatred wasn’t the loud, angry sort, but rather the sort that tore apart the people around them, those who looked up to them, who loved them, _who couldn’t help being born a mutant_. Bobby was their son.

“That’s not how it works. There’s no fucking ‘ _on-off switch_ ’ for mutation.” Aoibheal’s standing at her full height, shoulders drawn back and gaze chillingly cold. Bobby’s mother murmurs a faint, embarrassed ‘ _language_ ’, while his father looks like he wants to kick her out of the house, but Logan bursts back into the room in a panic, telling them all to get out of the house. Outside, however, they’re faced with a legion of police officers and dozens of guns all trained on them. Stepping back inside, Aoibheal allows a clone to take her place, watching as a foolish human demands that Logan drop his knives, and shoot before they can ask anymore questions.

Noise erupts from all around them as the humans scream for them to get on the ground, and while Rogue and Bobby comply easily enough, John and Aoibheal stand their ground. With a flick of his lighter, John’s taken out the guards either side of them, as well as the ones in the house, but his powers splutter to a halt and he sees Rogue gripping his bare ankle with determination. Aoibheal’s the last mutant standing as John drops to the ground and she steps over the children, sauntering forward with her hands raised in surrender as the humans slowly move in.

“I’m Aoibheal McCoy, F.B.I.” She tells them when they demand to know who she is. Every single officer stops, but Aoibheal continues until she’s alone in the middle of the yard, with all guns trained on her. It’s pitiful to hear the shake in their voices as they inform her that she’s under arrest - _they’re all under arrest_ \- and to be taken to Stryker’s private facility. All pretense of kindness drops at their words and her expression shrivels into a snarl. “I’d rather be shot.” Spitting her words she stalks forwards until a single gunshot rings through the air. Stopping, she looks down at the bullet wound, at the blood oozing out of her chest; it hurts like hell, but the original is fine. She keeps walking. By the time she makes it to their blockade, the clone has been all but torn apart, it’s a wonder that she’s even standing. Pulling a round from her shoulder, she holds it up and watches her own blood glint in the sunlight.

“Order may be the dream of man,” musing quietly, she tosses the bullet to the side and the original lets the pain build within her, turning it to rage, to the desire to explode, “but _chaos_ is the law of nature.” Glorious and terrifying in the afternoon light, she detonates in a rush of fire and twisted metal. All that’s left of the cars is scrap metal and human soldiers gasping for their final breaths. The onlooking mutants get to their feet, horrified and expecting to see her standing there, covered in ash and blood. Instead, she pops out from the doorframe, scaring them all and herding them towards the opposite lawn where the X-Men’s jet had just landed. Bobby looks as though he’s going to be sick.

Aoibheal sits quietly at the back of the aircraft, thoughtfully ruminating on all the bad choices she had made that day, and how her life was _monumentally_ fucked. However, things manage to get even worse as they’re targeted by two military jets. Even with a telekinetic on board, one of the missiles hits, sucking Rogue out into the atmosphere. Another mutant, a blue man calling himself Kurt, disappears in an instant, and a moment later, he’s back with Rogue secure in his arms as the plane begins to knit itself back together, even though the telekinetic, Jean, Aoibheal learns, simultaneously learning that she’s also telepathic, insists that it’s not her.

Back in the seventies, Aoibheal gave up wearing any and all metal jewellery for her own protection, a habit she never really grew out of, though, as they plummet to the ground there’s a faint tug in her metal filling that even after so many years, is as good as a wave hello from an old friend. Erik holds their plane aloft, with Mystique by his side, and it’s all Aoibheal can do to stop herself jumping from the hovering plane.

It comes as a surprise to everyone but Erik and Mystique when Aoibheal’s the first one from the plane. Erik looks her over, smiling fondly at her barely contained grin. Holding her at arm's’ length for barely a moment, he wraps her up in a hug and presses a kiss to her forehead. He knows she wants to apologise for the bruises on his face, the bruises Stryker had inflicted, but instead he praises her for staying vigilant for _so long_ , and Mystique is curling her arms around the ginger. The embrace is familiar, as is the kiss she presses to Aoibheal’s cheek, comfortable, like the faint ‘ _hello_ ’s they exchange, smiling as if nothing bitter had ever come to pass between them. For the first time in decades, Aoibheal feels as though she’s finally where she belongs.

Taking her place by Erik’s side, Aoibheal sees what little respect and trust she’d earned from the others disappear, and silently thanks God for their common enemy. When the sun has set, what’s left of the X-Men and the Mutant Brotherhood hold and impromptu secret meeting. Aoibheal remains silent and vigil by Erik’s side as he explains how Charles had been taken hostage and Stryker had developed his own version of Cerebro, intending to use the two of them together to bring about the extinction of all mutant-kind. Skin crawling, she can feel the bile rising in her throat as they discuss Stryker himself, and his experiments on Logan, before Erik turns slyly to Aoibheal.

“This one always managed to get out before they erased her memory.” He leaves out the part about how she destroys any lab she’s held in, but all Aoibheal can think about is how Mystique won’t meet her eyes. “She’s been working with these types of men for years, providing intelligence for my organisation,” unperturbed, Erik continues, “and through this, we have narrowed down our possibilities for where Charles is being held, but we don’t have a definitive, _yet_.” There’s a pause. “I believe one of us here knows exactly where we need to go.” Turning his gaze skyward, all the gathered mutants look to where Kurt had been hanging above them, listening in. As Jean offers to sift through his memories, Aoibheal volunteers to help the students set up camp for the night. Knowing her own mind, she doesn’t want to stick around and catch even an accidental glimpse of whatever Kurt had been through. All she knows is that wherever Erik leads, she will follow.

John’s the only one at the aircraft when she arrives, his lighter flicking open and closed almost rhythmically. He doesn’t seem frightened of her, not how she would have expected, instead, he looks thoughtful, and actually moves to make room for her. Voice surprisingly neutral, he asks if she killed the police officers earlier, and he doesn’t seem deterred when she confirms without hesitation. A long silence stretches between them. When he asks why, it’s so quiet that she almost misses it.

“I’m a monster, John, what was I supposed to do?” It's the first time she’s actually said his name. He shivers and it’s not from the cold. Elegant fingers latch onto the collar of her shirt and she shows him the deep, intricate scars dip beneath the fabric and weaves across her ribs. Ironically, the abandoned hospital hadn’t had the equipment to heal the scars properly, so they remained angry and red against her pale skin. It’s easy enough to cover with high collared shirts and a lie about a childhood injury, but there’s something powerful about someone new knowing the origins of her bitterness.

John tries not to stare, but fails miserably, and asks about Magneto instead. A low hum escapes Aoibheal’s throat, only half thinking as she watches Mystique approach Logan’s tent with a look of intent. Before she’s able to answer, Jean ‘ _advises_ ’ he go to bed, giving Aoibheal a calculating look. Taking the hint easily enough, she rejoins Magneto by the fire, who is deep in thought, though he pets her knee affectionately when she rests her head on his shoulder. The two are joined not long after by a disgruntled Mystique, who tucks her arm in Aoibheal’s. After a long moment, Erik adjourns for the night and it’s just the women left. Aoibheal turns, resting her forehead against Mystique’s. When they kiss, it’s so much more than just a kiss, it’s an apology, it’s comfort, it’s an ‘ _I missed you_ ’ all in one. Aoibheal doesn’t cry, but she also can’t let go of Mystique, not just yet.

Twenty years. It had take Aoibheal twenty years to forgive Mystique for abandoning her in Stryker’s lab. Now, the way Mystique is holding her close, kissing her until she can’t breathe, it feels safe, familiar and _right_. Like Erik’s razor-sharp smile at a bad joke back in New York, like Hank’s elated, rambling tangents, her brother singing along to the radio as they drove through the desert, it feels like home. Home had never been the mansion, or the hospital, or her apartment, home has always been the people she loved.

* * *

 

_delicate in every way but one_  
_(the soul way)  
_ _god knows we like archaic kinds of fun_

* * *

Aoibheal sits herself beside Mystique in the jet, feeling as though new life is being breathed into her tired soul with the way Erik recounts the way he and Mystique ‘ _met_ ’ Rogue, wearing a cruel smile as he does so. Wearing an amused smile, she listens as John calls Erik a ‘ _bad guy_ ’, and then to Erik’s hushed voice asking his real name. With the fire from his lighter dancing in his palm, John calls himself _Pyro_ , and Erik smiles in approval.

“You are a God among insects,” Erik is unusually serious as he closes the lighter quietly, “never let anyone tell you differently.” Smiling with dark appreciation, Erik drags his attention from Pyro to Aoibheal. “Isn’t that right, _Chaos_?” As though a hand had ghosted its way up her spine, Chaos straightens her back and looks instead to Pyro, expression thoughtful. Holding out her hand, she waits for the fire, and he dances it across her knuckles with ease. Pyro snuffs out the flame with a flick of his wrist and all Chaos can do is agree with Erik. After landing, Storm debriefs them, sending Mystique in disguise as Logan to close off the floodway without being injured. Graceful, elegant and skillful as ever, she’s in without a hitch, and when the adults storm the dam, Chaos takes her rightful place by Erik’s side. The control room is their target destination, it’s where Mystique is holed up, but it’s crawling with guards trying to get in. It only takes one clone to take them all out, and all that’s left to do it for Erik to rip the door away like tissue paper.

They split up, Storm and Kurt searching for the children Stryker had taken ( _and God, Chaos hates herself for being unable to stop him sooner_ ), while she stays with Erik, Mystique and Jean to help search for Charles. Logan had left long before any of them, off hunting for Styker like Chaos wishes she could, and as savage as Logan is, he’s still Charles’s student, and she will still get her chance at Stryker. An explosion separates them from Jean and so it's the three of them who head to Stryker’s Cerebro. At least a dozen guards wait by the entrance with guns poised, all of whom Chaos knows by name and rank, those traitors; they’re her men, they know her and she knows them, but they are insufferably human. Erik merely has to drawl her name for a clone to swagger in amongst them and detonate. No hesitation. No remorse. Giving her an approving smile, Erik pulls his helmet on and waits. Barely a moment later, Chaos can feel herself being torn apart from the inside out.

It’s begun; Charles is targeting mutants and Chaos finds herself losing control. She screams, collapsing to the ground as she fights to stop herself creating clones, yet still they stutter in and out of existence, leaving the whole corridor smelling of smoke. Her scream gets _louder_ if possible, even though Erik is struggling, Mystique’s ears are bleeding and Jean’s voice is in her mind _begging_ her to shut up. When it ends, Chaos staggers to her feet, helping up Mystique as Cerebro’s doors glide open behind them.

Everyone seems to think it's for the best when she decides to go after Stryker, though they’re probably just hoping she’ll be far away if something goes wrong with Charles again. Following the angry claw marks Logan, or someone like him, left behind, she’s pretty sure Stryker escaped into the snow, but thankfully, she doesn’t have to look far. Logan has him pinned to his own helicopter, on the verge of tearing the ‘ _scientist_ ’ apart. Instead of taking his shot, Logan heads back into the dam, presumably to save his friends from it’s impending collapse. He doesn’t see her, which she’s thankful for, and she takes a twisted sort of pleasure in the fear radiating off of Stryker as she stalks towards him.

“Remember me?” Her voice is a dangerous purr, nothing even remotely triumphant about it as she stood over the man who ruined her life. She has first-hand proof that Magneto’s plan succeeds, that Charles is targeting humans; it’s writhing around before her, chained to his own helicopter wheels, begging for help. But something goes wrong, Stryker doesn’t die, instead, he grows angrier and starts gasping in lungfuls of air as he tries to wiggle from his bindings.

“ _Look at me you fucking flatscan_!” Finally, she snaps, yanks his head up to look her in the eyes. There’s nothing but terror in his gaze as he sees the burning fury in hers. Her name splutters from his lips and wonders aloud if he _made_ her this way. He calls her a monster. “Shut up; you know what you get credit for?” In the snow, her scars are almost neon against her flesh. “You get credit for dicing up a _child_.” Kicking him, she doesn’t even wipe away the tears in her eyes. “You get credit for my _dead fucking brother_.” When she beats him up, she does it by herself, with her fists. “You get credit for ruining the lives of _millions_ of mutants.” His nose shatters beneath her fist; she’s sobbing hard enough that she barely notices. “You get credit for whatever the _fuck_ happened in my head to make my a murderous sociopath, because _yeah_ , that’s _definitely_ your fault too.” Many of his ribs are broken, his eyes are swollen shut and his nose… doesn’t even resemble a nose anymore. Chaos is shaking when she steps back, her voice low, energy drained. “And congratulations, _you_ get credit for the death of Aoibheal Cassidy.” Hopped up on adrenaline, she’s able to pull him from his bindings and laying him out on the snow, his breathing shallow as he blood begins to stain the surrounding ice. “My name is _Chaos_ , and I am stronger than she could _ever_ be.”

There are two things in life that Chaos knows she will always remember; the first is her brother’s death, that haunts her to this day, and the second is the feeling of Stryker’s skull giving out beneath her boot, and the image of his blood against the snow. Neither Mystique nor Magneto ask questions, but there’s pride in Mystique’s expression as she takes in the scene. They board Stryker’s helicopter without a second thought, but as they prep for takeoff, Chaos spots a figure by the treeline. Erik stops at her command and she hops off. Neither she nor Pyro speak, she’s not sure how much he saw, but he doesn’t look at her with fear or disgust, and he takes her hand when she offers it to him.

As he flicks his lighter open and closed during takeoff, Chaos thinks that like Mystique’s embrace, Hank’s rambling, Erik’s smile, or her brother’s voice, this lighter, this boy, could become something akin to home for her too.

* * *

 

_maybe i was wrong_  
_and perhaps you needed more from me  
_ _i can stand to fight all the time but i can't seem to take the fall_

* * *

Training with Pyro had been going surprisingly well; he’s been learning to control the explosion from one of her detonations in the event of a lighter malfunction. Most of the time she was fine, but they’d been working with larger explosions, and after a solid dozen, her lightheadedness ended with her passing out, and waking up in their lair’s medical bay. It’s taken his a few years, but he no longer looks guilty when he hurts her during training. The first time it had happened, she had hit him ( _none too lightly, either_ ) and asked if he thought she felt guilty. This, however, was met with a mumbled ‘ _no, but you’re a sociopath_ ’ which he fully expected her to get mad at, and was surprised to see her grinning. Pyro wasn’t afraid of her, not like she thought he would be, and their developing friendship is surprisingly strong.

Years within playing informant in the human bureaucracy had gifted her the ability to identify a mutant’s threat level and determine their usefulness in mere moments, so her position as Erik’s right hand is safe. Its the two of them who go to recruit mutants, along with Pyro if he’s feeling sociable, but the only time she genuinely _enjoys_ within the Brotherhood of Mutants is spending time with Mystique. Neither one of them is comfortable putting labels on whatever they are, but whatever it is is certainly more than friends. Their close relationship is no secret amongst the Brotherhood, even if neither of them really have the capacity for love, but it still goddamn stings when Mystique is taken.

For the first full _hour_ after finding out, Chaos yells at Erik, demands to know he could let such a thing happen, eager to blame everyone but the woman she loves--. Erik allows her to yell, keeping his calm demeanour in place as Chaos hollers at him about ‘ _pathetic humans_ ’ and their _‘traitorous, mutant lapdogs’_ ; he’d heard it all before, but he humoured her, and passed her a file when she was done. It was Mystique’s mission, a ‘ _cure_ ’ humans were developing, and she was sent to find the source and shut it down, but she was caught. The ‘ _cure_ ’ is listed as voluntary, but Chaos isn’t naive enough to believe humans won’t think to weaponize themselves against the future. Voice hoarse, she inquires about their own next move.

“We’re going to find others like us.” Sweeping around his desk, Erik wraps his arms around her in a rare but warm hug, allowing Chaos to rest her head on his chest with a sigh. “We’re going to get her back, my dear.” Just for the moment, his voice is uncharacteristically assuring, and stepping apart, Erik heads to the hangar as Chaos fetches Pyro.

The three of them takes their places sitting at the back of a chapel, listening as a some mutant drones on about how _‘order was the way to survival’_ , as if he knew what survival was truly like. Rolling her eyes, Chaos shares a smirk with Pyro before Erik stands to address the crowd. Erik’s twistedly charming, easily capturing the attention of the room with his two guards flanking him silently. From their position on the stage, they can already see the crowd shifting in anticipation; most of them are young, barely older than Pyro, just beginning to understand the damage humans are willing to inflict. As they go to leave, they’re hassled by a group of leather-clad, tattoo-covered mutants just itching for a fight, and while Pyro warns one to back off, another steps straight up to Erik.

“If you’re so proud of being a mutant where’s your mark?” At the newcomer’s words, Chaos can feel the surgical scars across her collar burn at the memory, but Erik’s answer is enough for the both of them, and Chaos remains silent. The girl who accosted them is a speedster, among other things, and she gives Chaos a curious look before announcing that the three of them – _Chaos, Magneto and Pyro_ – are the only mutants above Class Three. Pride flares within her, but she’s not sure if it's warranted. However, as soon as they know she can _track down_ other mutants, Erik’s calculating look turns to a sly smile, and Chaos feels her heart lift.

Less than a day later they’re intercepting a convoy guarding an unmarked, mobile prison that held some of the most dangerous mutant criminals, which, of course, included Mystique. There’s an undeniable beauty in the way Erik throws cars around with such ease, but there’s little time to admire it before he’s leading them swiftly aboard. Mystique’s grin makes something in Chaos’s chest ease, if only for a moment, before she’s informing them that the ‘ _cure_ ’ is a mutant – _a child_ – being held in Worthington Labs. Bile rises in the back of Chaos’s throat from the words alone and she’s filled with unbridled rage even as they free the other mutants. The first is like her, able to create copies of himself, though his are actual autonomous clones, able to split from the original for days- weeks- years at a time, able to die. The second calls himself ‘ _The Juggernaut_ ’ and while he’s impressive, he’s also irritating, and Chaos doesn’t even suppress her eyeroll.

In the moment she looks away, there’s sudden commotion; the guard they had stepped over to get in was alive and had drawn his gun. Mystique had put herself between the Erik and the bullet, but something wrong, because instead of a bullet, there’s a needle in her shoulder that she plucks out with shaking hands. Chaos surges forward, catching her before she can hit the ground, spasming and gasping for air. It’s John who steps forward to blast the guard with a torrent of fire, but Chaos can’t see it, can’t hear it, can’t focus on anything that’s not Mystique and the horror in her eyes as her skin flips involuntarily from blue to white. Carding her hands through now-dark hair, Chaos sees fear and pain in Mystique’s now blue eyes as horror and realisation sets in. Mystique had been shot with the cure. Erik leaves, turning on his heel and heading out with Pyro and the new mutants, even as Mystique calls out after him.

“What about Chaos?” Pyro, looking not hesitant, but shaken, turns to Erik, who just gives him a wry smile.

“This decision was made long before you were born, my boy,” Eriks words remind Pyro sharply of just how long he and Chaos had known each other, and how, despite their perceived differences, the two were terrifyingly similar. As if on cue, the sound of footsteps joins them, as does Chaos, looking surprisingly cold.

“She’s left me for dead before, it’s only fair I return the favour.” Chaos explains to no-one, except, perhaps, Pyro’s confusion.

“Y-you killed her?” Voice shaking involuntarily, he refuses to shrink under her hard, calculating look. There’s a long moment of silence that she breaks with a flippant tone.

“I wouldn’t hurt Charles like that.” Punctuating with a scoff, she grins at  the sound of Erik actually laughing. For the first time since meeting her, Pyro looks at Chaos with genuine fear in his eyes, and she refuses to shy away from the twisted sense of triumph that the look made flourish within her.

Planning back at the lair is interrupted by the speedster, Callisto, and her announcement causes Erik’s gaze to go glassy, and without another word their band of misfit terrorists is bundled into the helicopter on the hunt for Jean Grey.

“Did you ever love her?” In the air, Pyro finally speaks up, his mind playing over the events of Mystique’s ‘ _rescue_ ’ all morning. Erik’s reaction wasn’t particularly shocking, but Chaos… she’s clearly a sociopath, that much he’s sure of, but what she’d had with Mystique… he’d _assumed_ …

“When I was young,” speaking very slowly, it’s as if she’s considering every word before it leaves her mouth, her voice low to keep the others from hearing, “I loved the idea of her, and that was enough.”

Silence fills the cabin, and when they land to drop Pyro off so he can wreak havoc on a local cure dispatch centre, he can’t bring himself to look at Chaos. The search for Jean brings them to her old house, and it also brings with it the X-Men, as Charles seemed to have a similar idea. Seeing Charles again is the least of her worries, Chaos realises, as she can _feel_ Jean inside her head, breezing through thoughts and memories with a callous disregard and terrifying ease.

« _I know you_.» An ethereal voice hisses in her mind, it’s _almost_ Jean’s voice, but something is wrong, so Chaos thinks violent thoughts until the voice leaves, and that seems to do the trick. Helping guard the door is her main goal, but she slips into the house when Storm and Logan begin their attack, keeping herself safe by putting clones in harm’s way, and creating them to stalk through the house when things start going haywire. The house begins to _levitate_ and all her clones disappear out of shock alone. Logan’s scream of anguish can be heard throughout the whole neighbourhood, she’s pretty sure, along with Erik calling Jean’s name. When the house falls back to Earth, Charles is nowhere to be found and Erik is escorting Jean from the house.

They all know what happened, but no-one dare speaks about it. The lair is just a brief stop to pick up supplies before they start building their recruitment camp in the forest, but Erik drops her off half a mile from Westchester on the day of Charles’s funeral without having to ask. It’s Hank who spots her in the shadows after the ceremony; he’s blue again, so soft and familiar that Chaos can practically feel everything crashing down around her. By some miracle, she doesn’t cry when he approaches her, asking if she’s even allowed to be on campus. While his tone isn’t unkind, she knows why he’s asking. This place had been her home once, but it hasn’t been for many years. Shrugging, she throws out a ‘ _probably not_ ’ and fully intends to leave.

“ _Aoibheal_.” It’s been so long since she’s heard that name, and this time, when she turns back to him, her vision is swimming with tears. The words are on the tip of his tongue, the urge to ask if she’s okay, even though she’s _so clearly not_. The question dies in his throat and he pulls her into his arms, wrapping her up in a familiar embrace and letting her weep against him. Here, he’s not a senator, he’s not a politician, he’s not a traitor, he’s _Hank_ ; her friend, her confidant, her big brother. They both know he’ll let her leave, won’t turn her in, deny even seeing her at all today; she grew up as his little sister and he’d be damned if she goes to jail because of him. In his arms she feels _so small_ and something catches in his throat when she goes to leave for good. “Take care of yourself, _Blue Blood._ ”

Back at camp, Chaos pitches her tent as far away as Erik allows, crying until her throat is raw and her eyes are stinging. Being held tightly by Erik helps, if only for a few minutes, and on the days she can stand the company of others, she sends clones out to supervise training and construction. Sometimes she craves silence and stillness, and those are the moments she joins Jean, watching over all the others, overseeing all but remaining reserved.

“You’re not afraid of me.” It’s a statement, and Jean’s words bring Chaos from her thoughts. Chaos muses on it for a moment before she dips her head in agreement. When Jean turns to her, her eyes are dark and cold, but that’s nothing new. Going through her head, Jean dredges up the memory of Stryker’s death, and Chaos feel equal parts proud and nauseous. “ _Kill your demons._ ” Jean murmurs faintly, eyes unfocused as she takes in the memory.

Joining Pyro and Erik as they patrol the camp, Chaos stays silent as Pyro boasts his desire to have been the one to take out Charles, and is quietly pleased when Erik reprimands him. Looking to her for backup, Pyro finds nothing but ice, so he’s dejected all through the meeting to discuss the plan regarding the child on the Alcatraz Island Lab. Hatred is the first word that comes to mind, burning hatred. They’re going to _kill a child_. A child who had probably been experimented on for his entire life and there’s no way she’d ruin a mutant kid’s life like that. Erik claims it’s for the greater good, but Chaos finds herself yelling back that ‘ _the greater good_ ’ is the reason Raven left her in a Trask Industries Lab twenty years ago, and look how that turned out for her. All others gathered are cautiously interested, listening to Erik as his voice lowers to a murmur when he tells her she’s making things too personal.

“Of course it’s personal, sticking with you has always been personal; _twenty fucking years_ , Erik, and the big picture had always been your job!” By the time Erik says her name – _her real name_ – tentatively, she’s gotten most of the rage out of her system, falling back to cold and bitter. “Yeah, yeah, I know, _‘the greater good_ ’.” Looking small and goddamn exhausted, she sighs. “Just don’t make _me_ kill the kid.” Voice soft, she doesn’t have the energy to look anything other than defeated. Pleased smile on his face, Erik assures her that she won’t. Remaining silent after that, Chaos absorbs the details of the mission, stands vigil behind Erik during his address to the mutants who have rallied behind him, even follows him to where Logan had tried to attack. Chaos is his right hand, nothing will change that.

* * *

 

_tenderly they turned to dust  
_ _all that i adored_

* * *

Alcatraz Island is in the middle of the San Francisco Bay, and the humans think it’s safe, however Chaos knows differently. Pulling her aside, Erik tells her that when the time comes, she needs to blow out the supports for the Golden Gate Bridge, and of course she agrees without question. If the big picture was Erik’s job, hers was to carry it out without question. They lead the army through the city streets and she’s by his side every step of the way. Pyro mirrors her on his other side, and there’s a tension between them that finally snaps when he turns with a look of cautious amusement on his face.

“I guess you’re not the only monster anymore.” While he’s shooting for causal, it still sounds just a touch tentative, but Chaos smiles anyway. “Sorry, you know,” voice quieter, he adds, “for all that shit I said about Xavier.” He’s not apologising to her, not really; he’s apologising to _Aoibheal McCoy_ , a ghost of a girl who still looks up to Charles, and who Charles, in turn, loved dearly as a daughters, even when she turned her back on him. Sometimes Pyro forgets that _Aoibheal_ and _Chaos_ are technically the same person. Chaos can’t bring herself to speak. It seems she doesn’t need to, as just at that moment they arrive at the bridge and Erik gives her a sharp nod. Clones burst forth, scatting through the crowd of humans and recklessly scaling the giant, metal structure. On Erik’s command, the clones detonate, rocking the whole bridge, which then swayed precariously until Erik was able to steady it, and Chaos tried not to faint.

By the time the bridge is in position, she’s recovered, and is standing by Erik’s side as his equal. In Erik’s ideal world, she thinks, her space would be taken by Charles, but Charles is dead and this world is hardly ideal. The weaker mutants ( _ ~~the pawns~~_ ) go first, and are unsurprisingly hit by the cure, being fired from plastic guns. For the first time in a long time, Chaos feels genuinely afraid; small and powerless, she’s unable to send out a clone for fear of the cure working on one of them, and unable to scream lest she injure their own soldiers. So she waits, watches the X-Men descend, and finally sends a clone amidst the battlefield to join the mutants looking for the cure’s creator.

While the X-Men may hold their own for a bunch of teachers and students, the clone slips into the lab with ease. It’s a much different scene inside, Dr Worthington pleading for his life as the mutants drag him up the stairs to the roof. When he tells them he was only trying to _help_ them, Chaos can’t help but laugh, vicious and cruel at the implications, though Quill summarises her thoughts easily.

“Do we _look_ like we need your help?” The question is spat at the doctor, but the mutants push him from the room without waiting for an answer. It’s almost cathartic, to watch him fall, until a mutant with wings swoops in to save him, a traitor is Chaos had ever seen one. The clone disappears as the original fumes with rage by Erik’s side. Burning cars, courtesy of Pyro and Erik, are being thrown into the fray, and are doing a fantastic job of scatting the remaining mutants, especially the X-Men. Out of the blue, Bobby offers a distinct challenge to Pyro, and never one to miss a fight, he accepts without thinking. Pyro’s strong, of course Chaos knew this, he’s retains the upper hand up until they all thought the fight was won, but then something about Bobby changes, until he not just controls ice, he is ice. Nothing Pyro could do would be able to top that. While everyone’s focused elsewhere, Chaos sends a clone in to collect Pyro from where he’d been knocked out, bringing him back to where the original checked him for major injuries, leaving Erik to deal with Logan.

When she next looks over, had been hit and there are needles in his – _needles in his chest_. Four doses of the cure protrude from Erik’s chest. Erik is human. _Erik is human_. Without hesitating, a clone runs to his aid, reassuring him and simultaneously demanding that he be alright. Everything feels jittery, foggy, she’s shaking, she knows that much when she tries to help him stand. The shout of approaching soldiers brings her back to the real world, and it’s with fear in her heart that she watches Jean become _The Phoenix_. Terror is _everywhere_ , mutants and humans alike scattering, being ripped apart at the molecular level, the world being ripped asunder by this cosmic force. Chaos’s clone is shoving Erik towards safety while the original is dragging Pyro to as safe a place as she can find, somewhere out of the blast radius. Something’s very wrong, the clone isn’t able to detonate, and is instead stuck on debris; a boy in a white smock is trying to scramble away only a few feet away from her and it's with horror that she realises he’s the ‘cure’. Ahead, Hank turns and spots her, he doesn’t know ( _ ~~he doesn’t know~~_ ) and so he reaches out for her, to help her one last time. Before he can, the last thing the clone sees is Hank’s terrified faces as the Phoenix tears her to pieces.

* * *

 

_there's a grief that can't be spoken,_  
_there's a pain that goes on and on,_  
_empty chairs at empty tables..._  
_now my friends are  
_ _d e a d  and  g o n e_

* * *

She’s forty-three in this universe, the life she had built around Erik and Raven having fallen out from under her feet.

It doesn’t end on an examination table.

For so many years that’s how she thought she would go, like her brother before her, at the hands of some worthless human who just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Instead, she got Pyro out, dragged him to the abandoned hospital that was as dusty now as it was in her memories. It was not her home, but it is enough. Nursing him back to health is easy enough, the worst damage he sustained was frostbite to the hands, and its not like either of them would have trouble keeping the room warm. Still, he’s just a kid.

“I did love her.” She’s sick of the silence, of the anger he refuses to speak through, disappointed at himself more than anything else. He doesn’t care anymore, but he humours her with a raised eyebrow. “I loved her as much as I could love anyone, which is never enough.” Silence settles in once more.

Pyro leaves the next day. He doesn’t intend to return.

On the edge of a cliff is where they find her, lying on the grass and pretending as though she can enjoy the warmth of sunlight on her skin. An unmarked black vehicle swerves to block the exit and out steps a man who is both familiar, and a complete stranger, or maybe it's just that she knows his type. Either way, she’s past the point of caring.

He’s holding a gun, calls himself ‘ _Trask_ ’, and when her breath catches in her throat, her only thought is ‘ _thank god it’s not a scalpel_ ’, practicality aside. Trask knows who she is, even smiles darkly when he assumes she knew his father and their ‘ _associates_ ’. A lot of people knew his father; Raven, Charles, Erik, _Sean_. He’s not interested in talking things through this time, at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. Though she considers blowing up the cliff she ultimately decides against it. Aoibheal misses her brother. Trask pulls the trigger.


End file.
